Can i die?
by A-Potter7
Summary: Living in a bubble is always safe. But it's not actually what you call living. Hermione's journey from a fireplace to a completely different world...


Hey, I just wanna say that apart from Hermione, all the characters belong to me. The story belongs to me. And the stuff i've written, it's not lie. I mean the story is fantasy but the theme isn't. It is reality. The war in Syria has killed about 10, 200 civilians including children, women and men. It is not something to ignore. i know my fan-fiction wont stop the war, or save lives. It wont do ANYTHING. I also know a lot of people will hate it and me for writing all that. But-it's-truth! I stick with the truth no matter how bitter it is. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. I wrote it to tell a FEW people (because i am not really famous on this site), about the reality of world. To make them believe that muslims are not evil. MAYBE..ONE of you MIGHT believe me. I hope you do. It took me so long to write it, i hope you like it. And if you don't mind, I would like to say..don't break the heart of a 13 year old girl by hating this small piece of writing.

~I wanna be a writer who can make a difference.

Hermione Weasley was standing in the fireplace, Floo powder in her hand, and her whole body shaking with fear. She didn't know the reason of her fear. She was brave, she was a Gryffindor, she wasn't supposed to be afraid. Maybe it was natural, maybe everyone had to face such thing before setting foot to that country. Maybe she wasn't alone. She closed her eyes and thought about about Hugo and Rose, they must be enjoying their time at Hogwarts. She thought about Ron, Ginny and Harry and her parents, her childhood, her teenage, her past. Was there a future? Was there a tomorrow for her? Would she return from that country?

Lost in the labyrinth of thoughts and trapped in the web of fear, she grabbed a bit of Floo powder from the flowerpot. She watched the particles slip through her fingers and fall on the black floor of fireplace. It kept falling, particle by particle, slowly and yet still fast at the same time. That was how time flew, second by second, slowly and yet fast too. No matter what she did, she couldn't stop the powder from falling, just like she could't stop time. The powder kept falling and she didn't care because she still had some left in her palm, she kept watching it, not knowing what she was doing. It kept falling, slowly, and there came a time when nothing was left in her hand. She looked at the floor and realized how careless she had been, the thought that it was now a waste and she couldn't use it anymore made her regret her carelessness. That's how she had wasted time, she let it slip through her fingers, thinking she had a lot. One second passed after another and she never noticed, now that she was standing an inch from end, now that all the time had slipped through her fingers, she realized how imbecile she had been, thinking she still had a lot in her hands when in fact they had lost everything.

Why was everyone afraid of that country? Why was it called a dangerous country? She had grown up listening that muslims were dangerous, she should never trust them, she should never believe them, they deserve to be punished, they deserve to live in a cruel world like Syria. A part of her believed it, believed all the things people had told about muslims, but there was still a part that knew that they were all lies, that she shouldn't believe them. She never cared about what was happening in outer world, she never needed to. She was just supposed to live with her family, answer people's questions and take care of a few things as being the Minister of Magic. Now, that she had to go all the way to Syria (because people thought this country was spreading terror in world) to threat their Minister and ask them to stop all the attacks, she realized: with great power comes great responsibility.

She took a deep breath and grabbed the Floo powder again, this time she didn't give it enough time to slip. Immediately, she threw the powder with great force while speaking "Damascus" as clearly as she could with her trembling lips. The green flames devoured her body and her perspective. After a few usual things, the spinning, the sounds and weird feelings, she found herself standing in the fireplace again, yet a different one. She looked around the room. It was an office but hardly looked like one. It was small and looked old. The walls were painted in white, that had turned into off-white, and filled with cracks. The two portraits were hanged brutally on the front wall. A weak and old man with black beard in one and a beautiful but old woman with head-scarf in other. The room had nothing but a cupboard, a book-shelf filled with files and pages, it's one leg supported by a brick, a chair and a table with more files. "Sabahu Al-khair" the woman in portrait spoke without any expression. Hermione thinking it was a greeting, waved at her.

She brushed the dust off her clothes and stepped out of fireplace. The door creaked open and a pretty women nearly of her age entered. She had covered her head just like the woman in portrait but a few locks of hair were on her forehead, her eyes were adorable but something was missing in them, deep down there was something that made them look a bit uncomfortable. She then realized it was the problem in portraits too, there was no shine, no mark of happiness, or life. The woman stared at her with who-are-you-and-why-are-you-here look, and then spoke in a beautiful but slow voice "You must be the Minister af England, i received the awl yesterday", she had a problem with 'O' She could hear some strange and very unusual sounds from nowhere. She couldn't recognize them but she knew she had heard them somewhere. They were so cruel, so sad that listening to them brought heat in her eyes. She was distracted by the sound of footsteps, she wiped the, "Ummm, yeah, my name is Hermione Granger". She shook her hand and said "I am Areej Sayid, Minister of Syria,` nice to meet you mrs Granger", she spoke so beautifully Hermione could hear her whole day, but her voice was cold, and the lips spoke as though they had never smiled.

She sat on the chair and took out a stool, Hermione sat, still looking at her, "I am sarry, we don't have another chair" she spoke quietly and sadly. "It's okay, is this your office?" Hermione asked, "yes" she replied, sighed and spoke again "I knaw what you are thinking, mrs Granger, there was once a time when we were just like you, when we were rich, when we had beautiful buildings and hauses (houses) too" for a second Hermione was dead sure she saw tears in her eyes. "What happened?", her weak eyes suddenly became active, she was looking at Hermione as though she had left a very important fact while reading.

"You don't knaw? Don't you know why we are like this?" she spoke loudly and clearly, "Like what?", the moment she said this, she wished to take it back because the look on her face, the expression gave her creeps. She started to say something but stopped, she did it twice and then finally spoke "i am afraid i can't tell you, you want (wont) get it. You need to see it with yaur eyes. i hope you are brave enaugh to fight in case you need to defend you, are you?". The word fight made her regret coming, she had to fight to defend her? Were they going to try to kill her because they were terrorists? "Ah, yes i can fight, but why would i need to..", "Because nat (not) all autsiders (outsiders) are like you, mrs Granger, nat everyone has a heart" she spoke quickly, Hermione didn't get it.

Areej moved towards the door and Hermione was forced to follow without a choice. She walked in a small corridor, the wood of the floor was rotten and made strange voices and vibration when someone stepped. The walls were covered in empty frames, portraits must've moved to some better place, but if this was the Ministry of Magic department, could there be better places than this? Was it the best they could get? Why? Why couldn't they make better? Why were they poor, was it because they were so busy killing the world that they forgot about their own world?The strange voices became louder and louder but she still didn't recognize them .They moved to a hall that was filled with men, women and children. But why children? There must've been at least 200 people in there, sitting on floor. Some had bags and cases and others were there with either kids or blankets. Everyone became quite when they saw them enter the hall, there were no smiles on their faces, no expressions, nothing that showed they had lives, no sign of hope or happiness. Nothing. But why were they there? Why weren't they in their houses with their families? A young man came running to Areej and asked her something in Arabic. She replied and he went through a door. Everyone was looking at her as though waiting for her to say something. She reached a platform and Hermione followed. Now she could see every single face more clearly. The beautiful faces of kids were flat and tough, the faces that could never make fun of anyone or prank anyone, the faces that had never tasted the flavor of childhood or love, that had her never sensed the scent of hope or fun. Areej took her wand out and muttered a spell and then spoke in Arabic. Every word she spoke, wiped the already-dead-hope off the people's faces. Hermione was so confused by everything that happened since she used Floo powder. Why was this place so disturbed? Why were these people so hopeless and what were they doing here? What had happened to Syria? Was this country responsible for the terror in whole world? Were these people destroying the peace of world, who's own peace seemed to be dead?

Areej took her out of the hall into another corridor, this time it was better than the last one. The corridor was filled with pictures of injured men, woman and kids. They were all crying, screaming with ache, begging for help. A little girl in one frame screamed so loudly, her voice was filled with terror, fear and hopelessness. It felt as though the voice had tore the skin of Hermione's chest, crashed the bones of her ribs and smashed right in her heart making it beat faster than ever, increasing the speed of the blood in her whole body which was now running from her head to feet and then to head again not knowing what to do or how to stop the voice from attacking the heart. Weren't they listening to these voices? Were they deaf? How could such pitiful voices not affect them? Every stepped Hermione had taken out of fireplace, she had seen a part of world she never knew existed. She had discovered the reality, she believed to be fantasy all that time. What else would she get to know? The dark side or the bright one? Would she discover flowers or spines?

They were out in a ground. In a street. That had turned into a ground, somehow. The rocks, bricks and cement was lying all over the place. Hermione couldn't stand what her eyes were forced to see. The buildings, that once must've been proud of their state and structure, were lying on the ground, showing the death of 'mercy'. The trees that could've done a fantastic job adding a bit life to the place were fallen towards the ground, not sure whether describing the gravity of Earth or the cruel hearts of humans. And the ground that was filled with blood and flesh was doing a really poor job covering itself with could see the camps and barely-living humans stirring at the sky as though waiting for an angel to come and save them or maybe waiting for God himself.

They crossed the dusty road, Hermione behind Areej. She stopped at the corner of road and waited for Hermione to come. "Wand should be yaur hand, mrs Granger. We need defense now". At this she took out her own wand and Hermione copied, still confused about why they needed defense. She held Hermione's hand and they apparated.

They were in another place just like the last one but this time there were a few houses, that were still okay. She immediately rushed to a door and knocked, Hermione followed. An old voice came from inside, Areej replied in Arabic. After a few minutes the door was opened by an old man in a long gown. They entered the house, it only had two rooms including one without roof (the roof and side wall must've been smashed down). Areej talked to the man for a few minutes and then introduced him as "Ali Bashir, a retired African Quidditch organizer and a talented wizard." "Mrs Granger, i've met you before" he said, "Where?" Hermione had never seen him, as far as she could remember. "I met you on the Quidditch tournament, in which there was fire and…",

"we dan't have time far this" Areej interrupted.

"Yes, yes. We don't, yes. Well i hope to see you again" Ali replied, confused. A very good thing to hope for, Hermione thought.

She followed Areej through the back door. She had tight grips on her wand as though ready to fight any second. And then she spoke, "I am 42 years ald (old), mrs Granger. And when i was 10, i last (lost) my mather in an attack. I lived with my father and my two sisters who cooked me food and gave me clathes. I entered the school, i studied there for 6 manths when one day it was blasted by an explosion. I saw my elder sister, Isha, die in frant (front) of me, i saw her flesh, i saw her blood. I believe this is not what normal 12 year olds see, do they?

"N-no. No they don't" Hermione found it difficult to reply. Hermione thought about Harry, but it was not the same. Harry had protection, he had friends, he went to school, he knew he was safe. Even though his life was different, he still had one. They were now walking in the streets, Areej's wand still gripped tightly in her hands, somehow Hermione copied her. She could see kids sitting in the stairs, not playing, not laughing, not smiling, just talking like adults. They were so mature in such a young age. But Hermione still hadn't understood anything. Why was this country like that? She couldn't believe the fact that they were killing the world.

"I knaw, but here, 12 year alds (olds) need to be brave. This is nat a Heaven. We had to move fram place to place nearly every manth because of the attacks. My father had taught me and my sisters to learn to move on, he taught us that we shauld (should) never love anyone so much that their death would effect aur (our) life. He thought us to live but yet couldn't live himself. I had him till the age of 15. Only one left was my sister."

They were walking, and Hermione was holding her breath while listening to the story. When she heard a small girl scream. Just like the last one, her voice crashed Hermione's heart. In a sudden Areej raised her wand and casted a shield, and a person behind them fell. He casted another spell but Areej was really for it, she casted another shield spell and shouted "Petrificus Totalus". The man froze, lying on the ground. She grabbed his wand and broke it before a second, threw its pieces on the ground and buried them in soil. Hermione was now shaking and breathing as though she was doing it for the first time. It all had happened so quick, her mind didn't even get time to remember it. The girl was looking at Areej as though she was an angel or a miracle. For the first time in Syria, Hermione saw a smile. The girl said something like "jizaakallah" and Areej replied "Marhaba" and the girl went inside the house. Hermione still couldn't breathe normally, what had just happened? The man would've killed Hermione after attacking the girl. She was dead sure about that. Areej had just saved her life. But why? Why did a muslim save her life? Weren't muslims the one killing the world? Weren't muslims the one with cruel hearts?

"It's okay mrs Granger, we are used to it." she said, Hermione nodded "so, where was i? Yes, me and my sister were left. I had her, she had me. We had each ather (other) and anly (only) each other. My father was a wizard but mother wasn't. That's why she couldn't defend herself. I learned magic from my sister, i loved magic, i learned the rest myself. Not going to lie, i am good at it (Hermione nodded, she agreed). My sister also left me, while saving me from a muggle bullet. I cried far next two nights and then tears left me too."

Another spell came towards them from a corner, but Areej was quick and yet ready to block it. Then came three more spells from the same corner and Hermione blocked them. Three men appeared from the corner and four more came from a door. Areej was continuously blocking the spells. Hermione was amazed with her skills. A killing curse escaped her from inches, which made her even more scared. She stupefied two men, while Areej killed two. Hermione sent the killing curse to the person who had tried to kill her, but she missed. She heard Areej shout "Avada-kedavera". Sh turned to see the scene when she heard another voice, a cruel and merciless voice shout "Crucio" and she heard Areej shout "No" or "Not" or "Now" and was pushed away. She was distracted from everything. Her eyes were closed, she didn't know what had happened. She heard a scream, but it was different, it sounded brave, but it was still a scream. She heard a laugh. A laugh and a scream? She opened her eyes and was forced to see the scene. Areej was lying on the floor, scream and the man was laughing. He sent a killing curse towards Areej but Hermione blocked it. Immediately, she sent a killing curse and gave him what he deserved. She was now looking at Areej who was lying on the ground, in the soil, eyes close and breathing slowly. Her head scarf had been pulled off during the fight, Hermione could see her braid. She got up, fixed it wiped dust of her robes. Hermione was still on the ground. Sh couldn't get up. She couldn't believe it. At least now she had understood: The man had sent the cruciatus curse at her, and Areej had pushed Hermione away and accepted the curse for herself. Areej had accepted the pain for her. She had saved her from being tortured to death. She had sacrificed herself to save Hermione. Why? Do they kill the world? Are they known as cruel hearted?

At last she got up, Areej looked at Hermione as though she wanted to say thank you but couldn't say it. She didn't need to, she saved her life. She was worth saving, more than Hermione herself.

They went on, from a dangerous street to a deserted to road, but now Hermione knew why they needed to hold their wands. "Well, well" Areej started "I moved into an empty hame (home) when she died, my sister. No ane knew i was there, i practiced spells there, i used to steel food at night and eat, whatever it was. Mastly, grass, or dried bread. Then one day a group of terrorista came inside the house and spotted me. They wanted to knaw where everyone was, i didn't knaw af (of) course, they used to use sticks of me, they used to rape me (Hermione's heart stopped for a second). Ane (one) day they left me on a graund (ground), i couldn't move or scream because my candition was poor. It stapped, it all stapped. I thought i would meet my family again, i was glad that i would leave this hell, people called "warld". But i woke up on a bed."

"Were you okay?" Hermione asked quickly. She sighed and shook her head "It is cruel mrs Granger, this world". Hermione couldn't argue. She had no words left. "I grew up facing the kind of challenges, anly (only) mast (most) miserable and unwanted kids would face. But this is not the way here, every kid has to be strang (strong). We are too scared to love anyone, because we know no ane (one) would stay. We are nat (not) miserable, we are nat (not) evil, we are treated like this because we were always treated like this. I am sure, mrs Granger, you thought we are terrorists because your parents told you so."  
It was true.

"C-can i ask you a question" Hermione said.

Areej looked at her which meant yes.

"Why are you, i mean Syrians, called terrorist?"

"I thought you would've known it by now mrs Granger"

"I am sorry?"

She sighed again "Because we are muslims! We kill people! When we dan't have lives aurselves! When it's nat allowed to kill in our religion! We kill world when in reality warld (world) kills us! Strange, isn't it? Murdered anes (ones) are murderers while murderers are the murdered anes (ones). It's like a haunted rabbit haunting a fox."

Hermione quite agreed to it. She didn't have words to say, she wasn't left with any.

"Who does it all?" she asked.  
Areej stared at the ground and the sky as though hopping for angels to come and help her. "It's Cold War. No ane (one) knaws (knows) who's attacking except the attacker himself."

"Like the battle of Hogwarts?" Hermione asked quickly.  
"Ah, well that was different. I mean, you knew who was attacking. That wizard, or whoever he was. We dan't (don't) knaw (know) who is behind this all. Same (some) say it's our own government, but no. We are saving them. Some say it's the people living in the country. But why would someone burn their own home. We dan't (don't) knaw (know). The only hope is God."

So it wasn't them. It wasn't any of them. World was a fool. World was a liar. World betrayed it's own kind. World hated it's own part. Humans hated humans. Killers were innocent, murdered ones were evil. She now believed in something unbelievable. She now knew the truth. Why did the office of Minister of Magic, barely looked like one? Because the real one was somehow destroyed in a blast. They didn't have a safe place, that building was a blessing for the dying ministry. Why were the faces in portraits so blank? Because there was no emotion left, that could add life to someone's face. There was no hope. No peace. No happiness. No trust. No life. Nothing. They had seen enough fears and deaths, their smiles had died with their loved ones. And no matter how hard we try not to love someone, we can't stop. It's not in our will. We don't love someone because we want to, or hate someone because we don't want to love them. Love is a trap we fall in. And once we fall, it's not easy to get out. We can't hate someone just because we are afraid of loving them. We can't. It's not that simple, love. Why were there people inside the ministry with blank faces and children with no soul of youth? Because they were the lucky-but-still-unlucky survivors of all the attacks. They were those hopeless souls who had got few more days to live, from God. They were those kids who never had a childhood, who came in the world to be adult. They were the kids who had seen their parents die, homes blast, foods vanish and life being snatched from their own hands. Why weren't the screams of people in frames affecting them? Because they were the ones screaming. They were the injured ones. They were the ones in frames. Why weren't they feeling petty for the kids in frames? Who feels petty for themselves? Who feels petty for someone they couldn't save, when they themselves weren't safe? Why was Areej (and surely others too) so strong? What else could she be? Could she be weak after loosing all of her loved ones, after loosing her life? Could she?

Muslims (the Syrians) were called terrorists when they were not. They were being killed, how could they kill. How could they kill if they couldn't live? How could those hopeless souls finish hope from the world? How could they?


End file.
